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Why I Chose to be a Writer
“What do you want to become when you grow up?” A common question, we are all asked in our childhood. As we grow up, some of us stick to the firm answer we gave years back and become the teacher, doctor or the engineer that we always wanted to be. But for others, they have had to explore the world around them, walk different paths, until they found the one meant for them. My journey of choosing to be a writer is one such story. As little girls, all of us always wanted to be just like the one who mentors us in school all day long – our teachers. Spending an entire Sunday correcting old notebooks, making elders at home our students, wearing our mother’s saris and donning that dark color lipstick; nothing seemed more important then, than becoming a teacher. I was no different. My school teachers had made a lasting impression on my young mind and I was convinced that one day I would become a great teacher. But as we grew up, we started observing the world around us better and hence the different kinds of people in it. Slowly, people from other walks of life started taking the place of our school teachers. Sometimes, it was a doctor’s healing touch, sometimes a singer’s magnificent voice and sometimes it was an actor’s immense popularity that made us want to be each one of them. After all, we were still living in a world where nothing seemed impossible; where dreams seemed no different than reality. Then again, I was a girl who had never stopped dreaming. Having grown up reading about the lives of four little women, the adventures of a young boy called Swami in Malgudi or those of a famous boy wizard, I had always wanted to keep my dreams alive. I never wanted to give up just because something seemed ‘practically’ impossible. As a child, we were encouraged to believe that each one of us was different. That everyone was good at something. And so, being amazed at how writers could bring a tear to our eyes, a smile on our faces or being able to take us to a different world just through simple words; I tried my hand at writing. Simple poems, short stories or essays – whatever my heart felt, whatever it wanted to tell the world – I would pour it out onto a paper and the joy it brought was immeasurable. The joy of writing a detective story at the age of 12, no matter how it turned out, is something I will always cherish. Success and fame did not matter then; what mattered was happiness. Then came that time of our lives, when we had to prove ourselves to the world outside. I had turned 18; that age when everyone gets drawn into the battle of becoming a doctor or an engineer. Once again, I was treading the wrong path in life, wanting to become a doctor. The girl who enjoyed writing more than anything else, the girl who never wanted to give up her dreams was lost somewhere. Her place was taken by a girl who was learning to live with the intricacies of the outside world. A girl who was being taught, that you can be successful only in certain ‘ respectable’ professions True, I still continued to write, still continued to chronicle my life in the pages of a diary or by typing away on the keyboard. Even then, I had categorized writing only as my hobby. I was listening to my inner voice. I wanted to be one among these authors and make a difference to the world. I wanted to explore life, explore the world around me, by letting my thoughts flow on paper. The freedom of a writer was beckoning me. I could go around the world, by writing, create people, homes, cities and an entire world; without rules, without limits, just the way I wanted it to be. A whole exciting journey was in front of me. All I had to do was pick up a pen and paper and submit myself to my inner voice. This I realized was my path of keeping my inner dreams and fantasies alive, while still living in the outside world. I now dream of being an author who is able to enchant her readers with her writing; one who is able to create thought-provoking works that remain immemorial. I have found my path-the one meant for me. I realize I am still that girl who had never stopped dreaming.
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